Have I mentioned before how much I dislike cooking?
This week we had Monday off for Labor Day. I felt it was fitting for me to not have to cook on Labor Day, so I suggested we go out for dinner. All were in favor except for Megan. She threw quite a fit when she found out we wouldn't be be eating at home.
First she said she didn't feel well. Then she said she didn't like eating at restaurants. Then she had the audacity to say, "We eat out ALL THE TIME!! I want to eat at home for once!!"
Um, what? We eat out 'all the time'? If that were the case, I'd be a much happier person.
Her tizzy put me in a bad mood, so I made some crappy pasta for the family and we ate in irritated silence.
Fast forward to the day after, and now we're back to me "cooking" on a weeknight.
I wanted warmed up rice and beans. Amanda wanted a bean burrito. Megan wanted chicken noodle soup. Henry wasn't home, so I was able to whip these items out in like 10 minutes.
Megan: Mom! This is the best square chicken you've ever made!!
Amanda: She didn't make it. She put it in the microwave.
Me: Hey, now ...
If Meg wants to compliment me on my square chicken (thank you, Campbell's), let her! Am I right, or am I right?